Apostle's Sword
by melcon
Summary: It is the Menji era and the hitokiri Battousai is slaughtering Christians by the hundreds. Until one day after an assassination assignment, he encounters the truth of what he has done.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** The following story is a crossover between _Rurouni Kenshin_ and the story of the Apostle Paul from the Bible. You can read the Apostle Paul's story in Acts 9 (originally he has the name of Saul, and it is later changed to Paul). Saul was a great persecutor of Christians until he encountered Christ on the road to Damascus. A crossover of him with Kenshin seemed to work - enjoy!

"_Listen carefully to me, Kenshin. I am asking you to kill."_

I remember. It was so long ago. It was like yesterday.

"_I won't lie to you," Katsura said. "It's not pretty, but it needs to be done. The Christians are overrunning Japan. They're changing everything, everything that our country stands for. Everything that we stand for! It must be stopped. I am asking you to help me stop it. For that, I need your sword." _

It was 1853, the arrival of Commando Perry and the opening of Japan to the West that had been the pivotal point. None of us suspected that the Christian religion the _ganji_ brought with them would spread through our nation like blood through water. From east to west, scores of people were suddenly aflame with new and dangerous ideas. These new-forged rebels, these Christians were willful and stubborn, brazenly flouting laws against their books, gatherings, and ideas. They did not whisper but shouted loudly, proclaiming equality for all and obedience to one God, not to parents, the clan, or the government.

They were dangerous and numerous. But they were all capable of bleeding and dying, and many did by my sword. For that, I was named _Battousai_, Demon of Kyoto and Slayer of Christians.

"_A sword is a weapon of death. In the end, it can only end life, not save it," my master had told me. "The way of the sword is the way of killing people. Never forget that." _

How tragically true my master's words were, but I did not comprehend their full meaning until the day of my inauguration as _hitokiri_. My first target was a local pastor, an outspoken leader who was gathering new believers to him by the hundreds. I found him in the woods, on his knees, in prayer, I assume. I was silent when I approached him, I was certain of it. There was no way that he could have heard my approach. But he sensed me anyway. Rising to his feet, he faced me calmly. Though small and wizened, his _ki_ was strong and he did not move as I cut swiftly, slicing open his torso from shoulder to hip.

The god of this man did not save him nor strike me down for killing him. I stood in the woods, blood-splattered, staring at the body at my feet. Even in death, he looked calm. When I expected emotion, there was nothing – I looked at the body with only a cold, detached curiosity. The years of training had held true. I had become _hitokiri_. 

"_Baka! You'll slaughter thousands just for your principles?" my master Seijuro spat at me, disgust written on his face. _

_I stood my ground, "Master, these are dangerous people who are ripping the country apart! Already there are thousands who have died because of these heretics. I cannot stand by and watch this happen to our people!"_

"_Go then," my master said, turning his back. "Do what you think you must do. I have no further words for idiots such as yourself who refuse to listen." _

I had left my master that cold, snowy day to join the _Ishin_ patriots, those sworn to stamping out these rebel Christians and restoring our country. The Christians were an enemy like no others: we could not face them across the battlefield for they would not fight us. Many ran and hid like rats, carrying out their prayers and preaching in hidden forests or abandoned buildings. Others were braver, marching and speaking in the streets, boldly teaching their vile practices and beliefs to all who would listen. Many did. For it, they died.

A few tried to fight back, but their feeble skills were no match for my demon blade. Only one time did a sword wielded by a Christian leave its mark on me. It was the bodyguard to my target, the Christian Shikoru, who had set up a printing press for the Japanese version of the Christian Bible and was smuggling thousands of copies of it around Japan. Foolishly traveling with only two guards, Shikoru was easy to eliminate. Yet, one of his bodyguards, a young man that I later learned was named Kiyosato, had a will to live that was more powerful than his inept skill with the blade. I cut him down as easily as a blade of grass, yet he marked my left cheek, leaving a vertical slash that kept stubbornly reopening in the coming months.

As time passed, some men began to grasp that there was power to be had in this struggle between the Christians and the _Ishin_. Amidst the ordinary Christians, those who would not fight back with weapons, the powerful _Shinsengumi_ arose, and they rebelled against the _Ishin_, claiming that their god was calling them to seize control of Japan and establish a new holy land in our country. Many young Christian men flocked to the _Shinsengumi_ banner, eyes and hearts aflame with zeal.

"_Our country is falling apart because of these Christians," Katsura's hand clenched on the katana at his side. "Thousands of them are abandoning the farms and rice paddies to try to get others to follow their faith. The price of rice has tripled in the past two years because of this. Because of this, there are more hungry bandits and ronin pillaging villages and waylaying travelers. Keeping our roads safe is impossible now. Many of these Christians are abandoning their clans and defying the orders of their kinsmen. They even refuse to commit seppuku if ordered, and whole families are being wiped out for the disobedience of one. Taxes are not being collected. The Shinsengumi grow stronger every day and are challenging us across the battlefield. Hundreds die daily. The only way we can keep our country from going up in flames is to destroy these Christians: if we destroy them, the Shinsengumi will fall. It must be done. Will you do it? _

I did. As _hitokiri,_ I targeted the Christian leaders and preachers. They were astonishingly easy to kill: few wore swords or even tried to defend themselves. They embraced death, many of them showing fortitude and calmness in the face of their own deaths that even samurai would envy. I killed and I killed, believing firmly that it had to be done, knowing only the burning desire to see Japan restored and this fatal canker of Christianity eradicated from our country's face and memory.

Yet each new killing was another weight to the invisible chain around my soul. I stank of blood, and all of the _sake_ in Japan could not wash the taste of it from my lips, try as I might. I began hearing reports that troubled me, descriptions of mass executions of Christians, _Ishin_ patriots ambushing secret meetings of Christians and slaughtering them down to the last child. As _hitokiri_, I was exempt from these killings since my blade was reserved only for top operatives, and glad I was of this: the rumors brought too many memories to the surface, memories I had long hidden.

_Moonlight on black hair smelling of perfume. A frantic whisper, "Shinta, Shinta, you must listen to me! You must live for us!" Blood falling like cherry blossoms, pattering gently on the dark grass. A heavy sword in my child hand, death all around me. _

Drinking was the only way I could keep the demons at bay, to blot out the screams and blood and the memories. But even _sake_ could not silence the nightmares, and I could not be drunk all the time. I had work to do, as vile as it was, and it demanded sobriety. During these times when I was unaided by the comforting numbness of _sake_, the ghosts of the past haunted me.

I remember one particular target most clearly. He was still in the prime of his life, a strong, healthy-looking man who likely had a wife and children waiting for him at home. When he saw me, he knew at once. Many of them did. I swear that his face was almost grateful, as if he was seeing something that he had long waited for. He fell, graceful and calm, lying at my feet in a pool of his own blood. I turned to leave.

"Wa....wait," a barely perceptible voice spoke. I turned, surprised to see that he was still moving. He was on his stomach, trying to prop himself up. A hand stretched out towards me, not imploring for help but reaching as if he wished to make a contact with me. His eyes were calm, even as his body spasmed in pain and imminent death. "I...I..for...forgive...you...my...my son," he gasped out before sagging to the ground motionless.

_My son_. No one had called me that since I was a child. I barely remember my father, a quiet man who had poured the entirety of his strength out on a meager plot of land, toiling mightily to support his family before a plague took him and my mother from me. _My son_. Master Seijuro rarely reverted to the name he gave me, Kenshin, preferring _deshii_ if he was pleased or_ baka deshii _if he was angry with me. Who was this man to call his murderer "My son"?

I did not know. All I knew was the weight of the sword at my side and the multitude of ways it could sever body and spirit. I was _hitokiri_. Killing was all I knew.

One night as I left the _akebeko_, numb from too much _sake_ and bad memories, I was accosted. A dark shape in the shadows of the alley addressed me. "Kenshin Himaru," a voice said across the sound of pattering rain.

"I am," I replied, wondering with a cold curiosity who it was. Had the Christians decided they had had enough and had sent an assassin after me? Was this a member of the _Shinsengumi_? It didn't matter. Even drunk, I was still _Battousai_, the demon of Kyoto.

"You will pay for the lives of the Christians you have taken. I am the hand of God and will strike you down here," the shadow responded darkly and attacked. He was good, quite good, and I was drunk. But I defeated him anyway, leaving his slashed corpse in the mud of the streets. Panting for breath and trying to shake myself free of the _sake's_ grip, I looked up to see a woman standing not far from my path. The blood of my opponent had splattered across her umbrella and kimono, leaving faint pink marks on her white cheeks.

"You...." she said in a detached, almost dreamy voice. "You made it rain blood. Just like they say in the stories....Just like in the Bible..." she said, swaying on her feet.

_Bible_. This woman was a Christian. She had seen me kill. My hand tightened on my sword. _Should I...eliminate her? _I stood frozen, undecided. She moved towards me, one frail hand extended outward. Rain splashed on it, throwing shimmers on her skin. But as she moved forward, she swayed, then slowly sagged at the knees. I caught her before she plummeted into the mud.

_White plums. _Her perfume floated up from the warm recesses of her clothing and skin. As I held her in my arms, she seems like a dead thing, as lifeless as one of the many corpses I had left behind me. I had never lifted my hand against a woman. I wasn't entirely sure that I wouldn't do so against this one.

Instead, I took her to the inn where Katsura and his men were stationed. The innkeeper, an inscrutable woman with a sternness that rarely softened, almost turned the girl away at the door, but finally relented: she stripped the girl of her wet things, dressed her, and put her to bed. I spent the evening in her room, watching as a shaft of moonlight illuminated her skin as I idly fiddled with the toy top I carried with me wherever I went. 

_Christian. _By all rights, I should have killed her. I thought of it throughout the night as I sat with my back propped against the wall. I had killed scores of her kind before; that was my purpose as _hitokiri_. But this was different. She was no leader, no rebel, nothing in her represented a threat to the future of Japan. She was just a stray wanderer on the streets of Kyoto, most likely only looking for a safe place from the clash of _Ishin_ and _Shinsengumi _and the violence that raged in our land. If she was to die, I determined, it would not be by my hand.

I found her in the morning; she was carrying dirty dishes from the dining room where the other warriors ate. I beckoned to a small room, "Come here," I said. She obeyed, standing calmly in the room and looking at me with deep, black eyes. Her perfume caught my nose, disconcerting me in a way that I could not identify.

I stared at her for a few moments, feeling a strange sense of awkwardness sweep over me. I wondered if she could smell the blood that seemed to permeate my very pores. After a second or two, I said clumsily, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you," she responded softly, then cast her eyes down. "Forgive me, but I was very drunk last night. You helped me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I responded. Silence reigned for a minute or two, and finally I hissed out, "_You're a Christian?_" through clenched teeth.

"Yes," she said calmly.

Roughly, I seized her arm. "You're in an _Ishin_ house surrounded by warriors; if they find out what you are, they will have their way with you, and then kill you. Do _not_ say anything at all to them." 

"You knew what I was last night, and yet you did not kill me," she responded with more courage than I expect of so delicate a thing. "Are you not _Battousai_, the killer of Christians?" I froze, my hand still grasping her arm. Finally I dropped it.

"I...I don't know why I didn't kill you," I mumbled. "But I do know this, there would be no purpose in your death. I am _Battousai_, but you will not die by my hand, I swear it."

She bowed slightly, then turned to leave. "Wait!" I said, as realization swept me. "What is your name?"

"Tomoe," she replied, then slipped quietly out of the door.

I saw much of Tomoe in the coming days, as much as I tried to remove her from the house. It was a most dangerous place for her, and I was determined to find somewhere safer for her to be. First, I implored the innkeeper to let her go, but the woman mildly replied that Tomoe was a good worker and an excellent assistance in keeping the inn clean and the _Ishin_ fed. Next, I applied directly to Tomoe. Her black eyes fixed on me as she calmly replied, "But where would I go?"

"Don't you have family?" I questioned.

Tomoe's hand clenched ever so tightly on the fabric of her kimono. "If I had a family to go to, do you think I would be wandering the streets drunk?"

So it was settled. Tomoe stayed, a white butterfly in the inn that fluttered delicately from room to room cleaning and carrying and tidying up. Her elegance kept the other men at bay, and the threat of my sword was more than enough to discourage other _Ishin_ members from taking advantage of her. Instead, they began teasing me about her, snickering about "Kenshin's woman" and making suggestive comments when I was within earshot. I don't know why this roused my temper so much, but it did.

At night, I had my duties of blood, and the stark presence of death was my constant companion. Some of my targets began to include _Shinsengumi_ leaders; they were more difficult to kill than the pastors and ordinary leaders, but they died as well.

One night, it all changed. Izuka, Katsura's field captain, had given me a new target: another pastor with a growing group of Christians mustered around him. I surprised him at his home, huddled inside with a group of his followers, teaching them. I had meant to take him alone, but the others with him saw me, and I had no choice but to kill them all. They all died, offering no resistance to my killing blade. Within moments, I was the only living thing in the dark home, splattered with blood and feeling the familiar numbness that settled over me in the aftermath of a killing. Yet this was worse, far worse – a few of the people I had killed were young men, not even full-grown yet. Had I fallen to this, killing adolescent boys in a home?

Leaving the house, I stepped out into the street and into what seemed to be the light of day. A bright light shone, so dazzling that I threw up my hands to shield myself. A strange weakness overcame my knees, and I found myself sinking to the ground, unable to stand for the dread of some unnamed wonder.

I expected an attack, an onslaught but my hands were suddenly frozen and useless, and years of training were not enough to force them from their stupor and wrap them around my sword handle. Huddled on the ground, shaking with a strange fear, I heard a voice. It was unlike any I had heard before: powerful, wise, quiet, masterful, sorrowful. I did not hear it so much as I felt it through my bones and skin, reverberating in my very core.

"_Kenshin, Kenshin, why are you persecuting me?" _

Scrabbling on the ground, I clapped my hands over my ears, but it was like trying to hold back a tsunami. There was no escape – I was bathed in penetrating light and it its presence, _Battousai_, Demon of Kyoto, was trembling in fear.

"_Who are you?"_ I screamed, heedless of anything but my own terror and dread at the voice.

It spoke again, and there was gentleness in its majesty, a sorrow that was deeper than human grief, yet still powerful. "I am Jesus of Nazareth whom you are persecuting. You have stained your sword with my blood and have killed many who follow me."

_Jesus_. I knew this name. The Christians claimed that their god had a son who had walked the earth and died as a man. I had scoffed at this tale, scornfully wondering how anyone could worship a god so weak that he would let his son die. But there was no weakness in the voice that spoke to me; indeed, I had never experienced such power before. I could scarce move a muscle.

"_What do you want from me?"_ I gasped, certain that the voice had only one fate in mind for Demon of Kyoto. Its response surprised me.

"_Go to Tokyo. There you will find a man named Ananias, a blade maker by trade. Find him._" Suddenly, I felt a cool breeze on my cheek, as gentle as a mother's touch. _"Do not be afraid,"_ the voice said in a tender whisper, and suddenly, it was gone, leaving me behind gasping and trembling in fear.

I kept quiet about this event, speaking of it to no one. To go to Tokyo, I would have to defy orders, abandon the _Ishin_ patriots, become traitor. I was _hitokiri _and as the Demon of Kyoto, it was my duty to slaughter all who claimed the name of Christian. Yet after my encounter with Jesus of Nazareth, I knew that I could never again draw my sword against Christians.

A few days' time brought my opportunity. Tomoe had asked me to accompany her to the Yian festival. As we sat drinking _sake_, Izuka rushed in, dragging us both out into the streets, yelling that Miabi and the _Shinsengumi_ were posed to attack the city and set it aflame during the festival. He was correct – within a few hours, blue and white coats were everywhere as _Ishin_ and _Shinsengumi_ fought in the streets, leaving them slick with blood and roaring with fire. In the ensuing chaos, Tomoe and I managed to escape, me with my telltale red hair bound up under a hat. I tried to think of a safe place I could leave Tomoe, but she wanted to accompany me.

"If..." she stammered and blushed, "If we travel together, people will think we are husband and wife. We will attract less attention that way."

I hoped she was right. I also hoped that Katsura assumed I had died in the ensuing turmoil. I doubted that it would cross his mind to think that I had turned traitor and to come looking for me. Indeed, I was in disbelief myself. Were it not for the fact that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I _had_ to go to Tokyo, I would not have even entertained the idea of leaving the _Ishin_. But my encounter with the Jesus of Nazareth had shaken me to the very core. I had not been able to sleep since that night, and the sword at my side seemed to be as heavy as an anvil, weighing me down with the innocent blood that stained it. No matter what stood in my way, I knew I had to go to Tokyo and face this man Ananias.

The trip to Tokyo was long and hard; the roads were filled with people escaping the turmoil of Kyoto. For that, I was grateful: Tomoe and I blended easily with the crowd and looked no different than the other haggard families around us. A few times, I glimpsed fellow _Ishin_ members, but I kept my head down, and Tomoe and I passed by unaccosted. Tomoe was right about us: traveling as husband and wife made us less susceptible to scrutiny. As far as the exhausted, frightened people around us knew, I was just another swordsman with his wife in tow looking for a safe place to be. I was one of the few swordsmen in the crowd, and soon a small group of people had attached itself to Tomoe and me, hoping, I suppose, for protection from my blade. They fed us without asking for payment and invited us to sleep around their fire at night. Twice, we encountered a roving band of _ronin_, but they backed down under my hard stare, and my sword did not leave its sheath the entire trip. I was oddly glad for that, and something in me knew that I could not continue to shed blood any longer. As Tomoe and I moved from Kyoto, I felt myself distancing from the manslayer, as if I was leaving _Battousai_ behind me. What was in front of me, I did not know.

Despite our hardship, Tomoe showed little sign of strain. No matter how long the day dragged on, she was always a few steps behind me. I tried to keep the pace moderate both for her sake and the sake of the group who was tagging behind us, but my eagerness to get to Tokyo was only matched by my dread of what I would find once I got there. I tried not to hurry, tried not to unnecessarily exhaust Tomoe, but I doubt she would have raised one voice of protest had I set a faster pace. She was my shadow by day; at night, she quietly assisted the women of our group in preparing food and tending the children.

During the day, I had the motion of travel to quell my restlessness. Nights were the worst for me: when the other group members were resting or talking quietly among themselves, I paced like a caged beast. I told myself that I was merely patrolling, for the way had grown increasingly dangerous, and the group grew fearful as night fell. But in truth, I was impatient to get to Tokyo, to face this Ananias and learn more of this Jesus of Nazareth who had flooded me with his light. To see if there might possibly be redemption for the Demon of Kyoto, although I could not see how any man or power could cleanse me of the stink of innocent blood.

At night, while everyone slept, I stood alert, not willing to lose myself in the screaming shadows that lately had become my dreams. Often, I would watch Tomoe as she slept curled up on the ground; it was almost laughable that she could sleep soundly in the presence of _Battousai_, Slayer of Christians. Although I begun to hope that perhaps in the future there might be a way for me to set aside my sword and find a new way to live, I knew I would willingly, even gladly, loose my sword upon anyone that threatened Tomoe. She stirred troubling feelings in me, things that I had no name for and found both appealing and repellent. I wondered if there might be a safe place for Tomoe once we reached Tokyo, if perhaps I could find a group of Christians willing to care for her and keep her safe. But I had to admit to myself that although I worried over my ability to care for her and keep her safe, I was strangely loath to leave her behind. Tomoe's presence, her fragile strength and calmness, was as a wall between me and madness. Without her, I do not know if I would have had the courage to face this Ananias. Had I left her behind, I think I might have fled the wilderness and become _ronin_.

I did not. With Tomoe a few steps behind me and the ragged crowd at our heels, we made the long, dangerous journey to Tokyo and whatever lay for us in that city.


	2. Chapter 2

Tokyo was hot and teeming with people, crowded with refuges from Kyoto and filled with soldiers, _Ishin_ and _Shinsengumi_ alike. I kept my hair bound up under a hat and my scarred cheek covered with a bandage, careful to avoid anyone who might report me back to Katsura. In truth, I grieved at abandoning my commander but I knew that I could no longer kill for him.

It took us two days, but Tomoe and I finally found Ananias. He owned a shop near the outskirts of the teeming city. As we approached it, I could see the smoke from his forge rising. Inside was a craftsman's domain, and scores of beautiful knives were displayed around the shop. Yet, I saw no swords, save the one that hung at my side.

We announced ourselves to an apprentice of Ananias, and soon the man himself was before us: tiny, stringy, and shriveled with age and the heat of his forge. He peered at us intently for several moments before saying, "Kenshin Himaru, you are welcome in my home." He bowed low and Tomoe and I followed suite, although I could sense the tension swirling in the air. Somehow I knew that he understood precisely who and, more precisely, what he was welcoming into his home.

Ananias directed us inside the house where we were soon kneeling on tatami mats. A woman, Ananias' wife I assumed, appeared silently at his elbow bearing a tray of tea. After serving us, she quietly lead Tomoe away to another part of the house, leaving me along with the blade maker. For some reason, I found myself nervous in his presence, nervous as I had not been before in a long time. He said nothing for several minutes, merely sipping his tea meditatively and observing me with eyes that were frank but gave nothing away.

Finally he set his tea down and spoke. "So, _Battousai_ of Kyoto wields a sword of the blade maker Ananias," he said with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Surprised, I glanced involuntarily at the sword rack where I had placed my blade as etiquette dictated. Ananias nodded his head at me, and I went over to take it from its resting place. Hesitantly, I offered it to him and he took it with strong, scarred fingers, two missing part of the nail. He carefully slid it from the _saya_ and examined it. I waited quietly, wondering dully if the blade maker could read the history of the sword in its metal, as if the steel encased the screams of the dying in its cracks and chips.

Ananias said nothing for several moments, then questioned, "And did it fit you, this sword of mine?"

"Yes," I replied hesitantly. "It is a good blade."

"It is one of the last ones I made before I gave up making swords," he said with a somewhat wistful air. "I did so love making swords, such beauty in their design and such skill it took to make them." He slid the _katana_ back in the _saya_ and set it down carefully as if having finished with his moment of reminiscing. "But no more."

"But sir, why did you give it up?" I questioned, not sure if I was being rude.

He smiled, "I met the One who is the Author of life. I knew that as long as I loved and followed him, I could no longer make items whose soul purpose is to destroy life."

"But you make knives," I responded.

"Yes, but a knife has many purposes. I make knives for the cooks of this city, the housewives who prepare their family meals, the farmers who care for animals and grow food, the doctors who save lives. It is true that a knife may kill and I have no doubt that some of my knives may be used to kill others. But knives are crucial tools to sustain human life and a sword, for all its beauty, is only a tool of death."

I reflected on that for a moment. It was a desire to save lives and make peace in the country that had set me on the long road to becoming _Battousai_. But I knew now, as my master Seijuro had known and told me then, that I could only accomplish death and sorrow with my slaughtering blade.

Ananias was silent for quite some time. Then he finally spoke. "And now, Kenshin Himaru has come to my house. Tell me, what is it you seek here?"

Hesitantly and with some mumbles on my part, I told him of my story along the road and my encounter with the Jesus of Nazareth. Ananias listened to my tale impassively, but I could tell that it stirred him. At the close of it, he said, "I was told in a dream that _Battousai_, the Slayer of Christians, was coming to my house and that I was to welcome him. And I do so now, for what I see before me is not an assassin but one who is weary of sin and death and seeking redemption. As," he smiled again, "as all men are seeking. It is to be found if you only ask for it."

"I would like to know more about how to do that," I said clumsily, unaccustomed emotion suddenly welling up in me and threatening to send tears coursing down my cheeks. I hadn't cried in years, not since I was a child.

"And you will," Ananias said, then looked thoughtful. "However, Tokyo is not the place for you. There are too many people who would recognized _Battousai_ the Manslayer and, forgive me, but you have now turned your back on your _Inshin_ comrades, am I right?" I nodded, feeling shame welling up in me. If only I could explain myself to Katsura. But it could not be for I was now both traitor and enemy, having allied myself with the Christians.

"Then Toyko is no longer safe for you, or" he smiled wryly, "any of us. My own family and shop may be wiped out at any moment. We live in dangerous times. Yet, the Lord is our shelter and he will sustain us."

Ananias arranged for a safe house for Tomoe and I in a remote village five days' walk from Tokyo. He treated Tomoe as my wife, and I did not bother to correct him. All thoughts of leaving her behind had vanished; even if I could have found a kind family to take her in, I knew that I would have been in constant worry about her safety. I had no doubts that soon another Slayer of Christians would rise up in my absence, and the thought of Tomoe's blood falling like rain was enough to make me certain that my sword was never out of my hand's reach.

So it was Tomoe and I along with Barnabas, one of Ananias' friends and a devout Christian, who made the five day journey to the village. I knew only that it was tucked away in the hills and removed from the turmoil that Japan was rolling in. It was also full of Christians. During the five day journey there, I was wracked with anxiety. I would be among the people that I had tried so hard to exterminate, and no doubt their hatred for me would be strong. I did not look for any comfort or acceptance from them, only a chance to hide from the conflict and find some meaning in the life that had become mine. As the days passed, I grew anxious for Tomoe's safety. What would they think of her, this woman who had aligned herself with _Battousai_ the Manslayer and claimed him as her husband? Would they turn against her even though she was one of them?

Barnabas, however, proved to be a welcome source of encouragement, a cheerful sort with indomitable optimism. He showed no fear in the face of _Battousai_ the demon of Kyoto and, strangely enough, treated me as a companion. He also never ceased to speak of the name of Jesus, and during our five days' walk, I learned much about this One who had called me out of a blinding light. Barnabas had relatives in the village and was planning on staying in the village for some time to help them with the fields. As our journey grew to a close, I became increasingly thankful that Barnabas would not be returning to Tokyo immediately. The life of a manslayer had been a solitary one, and little did I understand the meaning of the word "friend" nor even know that such a thing was desirable. Barnabas, however, had shown me differently.

The village appeared on the fifth day, a mean-looking, hardscrabble place at the foot of a large hill. It was not a cheerful sight, and I wondered what Tomoe would think of this place that I had brought her. As we approached, a small crowd of people, the entire village I presumed, began to wander towards us. Their eyes were curious and their faces were rough-worn, those of men and women that struggled hard to put food on their tables.

Barnabas bowed politely to them and spread his hands. "My friends, I bring you an important guest and his wife. They have come to live among you and learn more of the One whom we follow."

An older man (the village elder, I presumed) bowed back and said in a thin, reedy voice, "He and his wife are welcome. But," he paused and looked at me keenly, "It has been many years since a sword-bearer has lived among us." His eyes traced me, judging me, and his thin voice became hard. "And this is no ordinary swordsman you bring us."

Barnabas put a steady hand on my shoulder, "You are right, my father. The man you see before you was _Battousai_ the Manslayer."

A cry of fear rushed through the crowd. Mothers clasped their children to them and people shrank back in terror. Several threw their hands over their faces. I felt dread clutching my stomach and knew that this was no place that Tomoe and I would ever be welcome. I feared they would have driven us out of the village had it not been for the sword at my side.

"No, my friends," Barnabas said firmly, "Do not fear. This man was _Battousai_, but he has stood in God's holy light and has seen the error of his ways. I have traveled with him and will pledge my life that the Demon of Kyoto is dead and this man is no longer him."

His words seemed to give the villagers courage, for many of them lost their terrified look but the suspicion was still heavy upon them. Feeling as if there was something they needed to hear from me, I slid my sword from my _obi_ and lowered myself to my knees, offering it to them in a gesture of supplication. "It is true that I killed many of your people," I said in a voice that I hoped did not tremble from emotion. "I thought at the time that it was the right thing to do, that Christians were destroying the country that I loved. But I now see how wrong I was. The people I have killed are heavy on my soul, and I must try to make restitution somehow."

I could see that many were looking at me carefully, measuring their suspicion and fear against the spectacle of an armed samurai kneeling before defenseless peasants. Feeling my gestures were not enough, I lowered my sword and placed my forehead on the ground, bowing in a way I had been too proud to bow for years. The Demon of Kyoto did not grub into the ground like a common peasant. He also did not have tears coursing down his face and mingling with the dirt under his forehead as I did. Raising up my wet face, I proclaimed, "I swear on the Jesus of Nazareth who spoke to me that I will not harm a hair on your heads. In fact, I offer you my sword, that I may defend you as I should have done all Christians."

The village elder had been inching forward until he was close enough for me to smell the odor of work and age that clung to his body. Reaching out a hand that was not quite steady, he placed it on my head. "We accept your fealty. Welcome." A sigh emanated from the crowd as people looked at me, fear still tingling in their eyes but courage overtaking terror. I stood, feeling a strange weakness in my knees that matched the corresponding odd sensation of tears on my face.

The elder smiled and bowed again, "And what name shall we know you by?"

"Kenshin," I responded, returning the bow. "Kenshin Himaru." I paused for a moment and half-turned, looking at Tomoe. "My...my wife, Tomoe." A small sensation rippled through the crowd. Who would have thought that _Battousai_ the Manslayer was a married man?

"Welcome, Tomoe," he smiled. Tomoe came to stand at my side, facing the village calmly. I think it was the sight of Tomoe, beautiful and demure at my side, that helped ease their fears. Several nervous smiles accompanied the bows, and I saw a few of the older boys gawk at Tomoe in open-mouthed admiration. If the situation had not been so wrought with emotion, I would have perhaps felt a little angry at their obvious interest. As it was, I only felt suddenly weary with the strain of travel and constant worry.

As we stood there, a shaft of settling sun illuminated the village, bathing it in pure gold. As I raised my eyes to it, I saw that the village was suddenly splendid in its radiant light. Peace tugged gently at my soul, and I was at once aware that there was rest to be found here, a refuge in a land torn to pieces by conflict. I had no illusions that this peace would last, but for the moment, it was enough. For the moment, I had found a safe place for Tomoe and I and, with the will of the one who sent me, it would stay that way for quite some time.


	3. Chapter 3

Our house was slightly removed from the rest of the villagers, and I was glad of that. The bustle and noise of the village did not often reach our ears; instead we heard the crying of birds on the hill and the rush of wind whipping against grass. Often I would spend whole hours outdoors simply listening. Ever since I had left my master Seijuro, my life had been filled with noise: noise from the training camps, Kyoto, other soldiers, and the screams of the dying. Here there was a silence of the ears and heart that was most welcome. Although I still slept propped up against a wall with my sword at my side, my nightmares grew steadily less and my sleep increasingly restful.

Tomoe, I observed, also seemed to thrive in our new home. She seemed pleased to have her own house and treated it with the meticulous attention any good wife would give. Towards myself, she was kind and attentive, and I do not think anyone, even Barnabas, suspected that we were only pretending to be married. Tomoe showed no sign of wishing to change this, and indeed, I did not as well. Her presence in the house made it a home, and part of the peace I felt emanated from her.

Although we were a little separate from the other villagers, we began to mingle with them more and more as they gradually lost their fear of _Battousai_ the Manslayer. The children were the first to accept us. I had always liked children but had encountered them very little in my former life. Among the children of the village, I discovered what delightful companions young ones are. They showed no hesitation in clambering all over the Slayer of Christians, tugging at my hair and demanding that I play with them. As the children accepted us, their parents and elders also did.

Barnabas continued to be a great help and a friend. He was cheerful and always had a laugh or a joke ready. I discovered that he was an instigator of practical jokes when I once received a bowl of soup from him to find that what I assumed were herbs were actually tadpoles that vigorously swam away from my spoon. A good-natured uproar broke out at the joke, and I laughed along with them in a free, easy-hearted way I had not laughed in many years if indeed I had ever laughed that way.

The villages gathered almost every evening to pray together, sing, and listen to the elders teach about the Jesus of Nazareth. As time passed, Tomoe and I began to attend these gatherings. Often, I would sit with the elders and speak with them: they were not afraid to answer my questions and hear my confessions, as gruesome as they were. Yet, there words were often hard for me to accept. Through Ananias, Barnabas, and the village elders, I had learned that Jesus of Nazareth was the son of God and that he had died in order to atone for all human sin, mine included. However, as much as my ears and mind comprehended this message, my heart could not embrace it. How could anything or anyone cover over the guilt of my sins? How could it be that I merely had to ask forgiveness and receive it without restitution or penance on my part? This I could not accept, much as I grappled with it and the elders tried to reason with me.

At times, the nonsensicalness madness of it all drove me away from the others: there were days I could only bear Tomoe's company, and I stayed away from the village. The elders, I think, respected this, and Barnabas became particularly apt at reading my moods and _chi_. "Your eyes change color when your mood changes, my friend," Barnabas had said one day. Barnabas, friend and encourager, was becoming almost as dear to me as Tomoe. This both reassured and worried me – it was both a comfort and a concern to know that there were people whom I cared for a great deal. As _Battousai_ the Manslayer, I had killed to make people happy, thinking that my efforts would secure the peace and prosperity of others. But these people had always been abstract and far removed: indeed, I had never been faced with actual, living people who knew me and whom I could observe my actions affecting. Slowly, I began to learn how to not live as a _hitokiri_, detached and alone, but as a connected member of a unit.

Some of this attachment came in the form of work – the village people had very little to spare, and the addition of three extra adults placed a strain on the food supply. As a result, I threw myself into helping Barnabas and the others in the fields. The little I remember learning from my father about farming came back to me, and I found a strange joy in helping grow crops. With Barnabas' encouragement, Tomoe and I planted our own garden and watched anxiously as it slowly grew. Barbabas and a few other young men from the village often took me with them fishing and I was pleased to see my skills grow and to help supply the village with extra food. On one momentous occasion, we took down a wild boar. A few of the men narrowly escaped injury, for the boar fought more wildly than some men do on a battlefield, but in the end, we carried its corpse back to the village, and the village feasted royally that night.

With all the work we had to do, months passed very quickly. Harvest time grew near, and Tomoe and I were pleased with the first year's crop we gathered from our garden. The villagers spoke often of the harvest we all gathered and were enthusiastic that our work would net us enough to cover taxes for the year and plenty to see us through the winter. Once the harvest was over, Barnabas began speaking about returning to Tokyo – he did not wish to burden the village's food supply over winter, plus he had work waiting for him back in the city. Although I knew that he could not stay with us, I was painfully aware that I would be sad when he left.

We were speaking of this one day when we returned to my house to find Tomoe sitting with a boy at her side. When we opened the door, the boy whipped his head around, snake-like, and glowered at me with eyes that were too old for his age. Something malevolent glittered in the dark recesses of his mind. I instantly thought of young boys I had occasionally seen in the _Inshin_ ranks, many of them orphaned through violence that swept up their parents and all of them dark with rage and grief.

Tomoe placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Kenshin, this is my brother, Enishi," she said quietly.

I stopped in surprise, wondering about both the news that Tomoe had a brother and astonishment that he had found us. Behind me, Barnabas made an inquiring noise. I ignored him, "I see," I said, "In that case, we will let you keep talking." I turned and pulled the door behind me, Barnabas falling in step besides me as we walked away from the house.

"Brother, huh?" Barnabas said quietly. "How did he find you here, my friend?"

"I don't know," I said worriedly. I had thought we were well-secured in this village and that no one outside of Barnabas and Ananias knew where we were.

Barbabas' brow furrowed in an uncharacteristic frown. "If the boy has tracked you down here, it might be best if we arrange another safe house for you and Tomoe. I don't want the _Ishin_ tracing you here, for your sake and the sake of the villagers."

"I will speak with Enishi later to see how he found us," I responded, but the time never came. Not too long after Barnabas and I had left the house, we saw Enishi barreling down the road stormily. I called out to him, but he merely shot a furious glance in my direction and continued on his way.

"I wonder what that was all about?" Barnabas said inquiringly.

"I don't know," I said, "I will go talk to Tomoe and see."

Barnabas gripped my shoulder briefly. "I will go speak and pray with the village elders. I sense that something big is happening, my friend."

Tomoe was kneeling near the fire, adding wood to it. When I entered the room, she flushed slightly and dropped a piece into the fire. I seated myself near her, and she placed a cup of tea at my knees.

"Enishi left quickly," I inquired of her.

She nodded and I noted with surprise that a tear threatened to fall from her eyes. "There is..." she began, then bit her lips. "There is much I have to tell you."

"Tell me," I said, "I will listen."

Tomoe was silent for several moments as if she was fighting with herself for control. Finally, after exhaling slowly, she began. "I told you once that I did not have a family. That is not true. The truth is, I left my family behind in Edo nearly a year ago."

She stopped, then closed her eyes for a moment. "My mother died after giving birth to Enishi and left the two of us to our father's care. Our father is not a rich man or a learned man, but he took care of us and loved us very deeply. Since Enishi never knew his mother, I became both mother and sister to him. We are...we were...very close. I loved him deeply and he was quite attached to me. Until my engagement."

I was surprised, both at her last statement and the spark of shock and jealous that struck me. The though of Tomoe engaged was not a welcome picture. She continued, "Enishi was extremely angry when he found out I was engaged. I think he wanted to keep me to himself. But I was so happy with my engagement that I paid Enishi's anger little heed. I think," she smiled faintly, "I think that made him even more angry."

Tomoe continued, "My fiancé was a kind man, a childhood friend, and I knew we would be very happy together. Yet, despite my joy, I could not express it to him. It has always been hard for me to show my emotions, and I fear that he thought I was not pleased with our engagement."

She paused for several moments as tears began to slip down her cheeks. "He wanted nothing more than to make me happy, so he took on a position as bodyguard to a Christian printer who was distributing copies of the Bible around Japan. My fiancé thought that if he could be a strong, brave fighter, that I would be happy as his wife. Instead..." her voice began to break, "instead, he was killed during his first assignment by, by you."

Like a tsunami, her words slammed into me and stole the breath away from my lungs. Involuntarily, my hand raised to my scarred cheek. _No, it could not be! _

_A pale, frightened, but defiant young man stood before me, clenching his sword in determined hands. "I'm not going to lose to you!" he screamed. "Not when I finally have everything I want! Not when I have everything to live for! Die, Battousai!" His charge was almost comically inept; he left himself wide open, and I could read his every movement moments before they happened. But when he charged past me, and my killing blade sliced through his torso, I was astonished to feel a slash of pain on my face. How he had marked me, I do not know, for his skills were pathetic. But even after half his torso was gaping open and the lifeblood pouring out of him, he still continued to move, to strain towards me, to cling determinedly to life. Only when I drove my blade into the back of his neck did he finally lie quiet. _

Dumbfounded, I could only stare at Tomoe, disbelief pounding on every nerve in my body. She was crying in earnest now, and I could barely hear the words that emanated from her trembling lips. "I, I could not stay in Edo, not in the village we grew up in, not surrounded by people who tried to tell me Kiyosato was in heaven, that it was the will of God. I...I hated myself for what I had done, for what drove him to be a bodyguard. But..but even worse, I hated you."

She raised wet eyes to look at me, but there was no malice in her gaze, only deep, profound grief. "I...I knew I should have forgiven you, but I couldn't. All my hatred towards myself, I directed towards you. I had heard of _Battousai_, Slayer of Christians, but I did not think that his evil any worse than what the other _Ishin_ warriors were committing. But when he, when you, killed my fiancé, a gentle man with no thought beyond loving the Lord and myself, I realized the full magnitude of what the _Battousai_ could loose upon the Christians. I hated you with everything in my soul. So, so I entered into a plot." Tomoe paused for a moment and looked at me with tired honestly. "A plot to kill you."

I listened. So many extraordinary things had been brought to the light in the past few minutes that her last confession did not particularly surprise me. I only felt a great and profound sorrow for deeply hurting the woman I had come to love. Love? Yes, I knew in that moment what I had known for quite some time, what I had been fighting against with increasingly less success, that I did indeed love Tomoe.

Hesitantly, I stretched out a hand to her. "Tomoe," I said but she was already moving towards me, falling into my arms, sobbing. Clumsily, awkwardly, I wrapped my arms around her, cradling her to my chest and feeling the soft weight of her body press against mine. She clung to me without reservation as a woman clutches her lover to her when she is distressed. Around us was the scent of white plums.

At once a great weight was taken away from me and a newer, more poignant one was added. I felt both a relief that all our secrets were out and grief at knowing what I evil I had cast upon this woman I loved. Long minutes passed with neither of us saying anything, merely sitting on the ground, me cradling Tomoe to myself as I had desired for a long time. Her sobs eventually quieted and she lay silent, contented even, in my arms.

Finally I spoke, "Tomoe, listen to me." She made a stirring movement against my chest. "I killed many Christians thinking that it was the right thing to do. I saw them only as people who were destroying Japan and causing the death of others. I wanted to make a world where people could live in peace and happiness. But I now see how wrong I was."

In this moment, it only seemed right to tell her about my experience with the Jesus of Nazareth. She had heard bits and pieces beforehand, but before this night I had felt strangely reluctant to tell her the story in its entirety, choosing to share it only with other men that I trusted such as Barbabas. Tomoe listened quietly. When I was done, she said, "I am glad He spoke to you. I wish..." she sighed, "I wish in a way that He had spoken to me in such a way. But His words to me have been quieter. This year, this year with you, He has been telling me that my heart is hard and that I needed to forgive you. I rebelled, many times. I thought I could be at peace only if I saw you dead at my feet and Kiyosato avenged. But I now know that revenge can only cause more revenge and it does nothing to help the heart heal. Forgiveness and redemption are better than revenge."

"Tomoe," I said, taking her hand. "I don't know if there is any redemption for me. My sins are very great and I do not know if anyone but me can carry them. But," I laid her hand on my chest. "I can promise you this: I will do whatever I can to protect your happiness. And," I stuttered slightly as nervousness suddenly struck. "I want to do so as your husband, a real husband, not a pretend one."

Tomoe lifted her head to look into my eyes, and I saw that her face, still wet with tears, was radiant with joy. "Yes," she said in a whisper, "Yes, Kenshin."


	4. Chapter 4

Morning light peeked through a crack in the window and teased my face. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and feeling something was not quite right. It took me a second to realize what it was, then I laughed: I was sleeping stretched out on a futon, not propped up in a corner of the room. It was only very recently that I had given up almost a lifetime of vertical slumber and taking to sleeping on a futon. Another habit I had been shedding as of late was the practice of springing to instant consciousness once I woke up. Warriors who sleep deeply are tempting death, and the importance of immediate wakefulness had been drilled into me since I was a child. However, here in the quiet of our village home, my sleep had become peaceful and deep in a way it had never been before. _You're become soft_, I chastised myself with a smile. No doubt my sword skills were weakening in this tiny village, yet, on such a glorious morning, I did not care.

Standing up to my feet, I wondered for a moment why I felt so full of a strange joy, and then the events of last night rushed back to me. Tomoe. I automatically turned towards her futon, but she was not there. Assuming she was preparing breakfast, I was surprised to not find her at the hearth. _She must have gone to the village for something_, I thought to myself with a shrug. It was no matter, I would make breakfast myself. I had done so every day for my master Seijuro_. _

By the time miso soup and rice were ready, Tomoe had still not returned. I was not particularly worried since Tomoe could have had many reasonable excuses for being gone. But when early morning began to stretch towards late morning, concern set in and I decided to go looking for her.

Stepping outside the house, I was greeted by a fresh snowfall and flakes of snow gently falling to the ground. Although the sight was beautiful, the snow was also covering up any tracks that Tomoe might have left behind. Without any clues to draw on, I decided that the village was the most logical place to start my search. Upon arriving at the village, I began questioning all who I passed. None of the villagers had seen her, and Barnabas, who had an unerring knack for keeping track of everyone, seemed concerned. "Did she try to go after her brother?" he questioned.

In everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten about Enishi's visit. "I don't know," I said, worriedly. "I suppose it is possible but I doubt she would have done so without telling me."

Barnabas frowned slightly. "We'd best take a look around to see if we can find her." He pulled a cheerful expression from his endless supply of optimism and said, "Not to worry, brother, I'm sure she's around somewhere. In fact, she may have returned back to the house. Let's go see!"

With that, we set off towards the house, Barnabas chatting about his plans to return to Tokyo and his excitement about seeing his family again. I knew that he was trying to cheer me out of my worry and I should have felt grateful, but my only thoughts were of Tomoe. As we approached the house, I was surprised to see a sheet of paper attached to the door. When I drew near and saw the words printed on it, the world stopped.

_We have Tomoe. Come to the Shinugan temple in the forest if you wish to see her again._

In an instant, _Battousai_, Demon of Kyoto came roaring back. He tore the paper off the door, ripped the door back so hard it nearly shattered, and stormed over to the sword stand where his killing blade rested. Kenshin Himaru, the farmer and the one who had renounced his killing ways, was no more: the _hitokiri_ engulfed him and stepped forward to take his place. In a moment, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that _Battousai_ had never left me, that I had not severed my ties with him as I had hoped. He was only lurking in the shadows waiting for his time to emerge once again.

Barnabas seized my shoulders with both hands. "Kenshin, don't," he commanded harshly. "Don't do this. This is a trap..." He got no further before I flung him away from me hard enough to send him reeling backwards onto the floor. Awkwardly, he got to his feet but showed no fear in the face of the _Battousai_. Moving towards me, his brave eyes locked on mine. "Don't do this," he said firmly. "Think! Plan rationally. This is a trap. We need a plan..."

"Get out of my way!" I growled, but Barnabas planted himself firmly between me and the door. In that moment, I no longer saw him as a friend and trusted companion, only as a body blocking the way between me and Tomoe. Without thinking, my hand flew to my sword and in an instant, the naked blade was an inch from Barnabas' neck. Baring my teeth, I snarled, "Move or die."

Rather than quaking in terror, Barnabas simply looked at me sadly then moved so that he was not standing in front of the door. Pushing past him, I stormed out of the house, ignoring Barnabas' calls after me, my eyes fixed firmly on the forest where Tomoe was being held captive.

I was so consumed with rage as I entered for the forest that it was some time before my common sense seized possession of my scattered wits and demanded my attention. I stopped, panting in the snow. _Breath. Think_, I ordered myself. Closing my mind, I called upon every last shred of training I possessed in order to calm the fire raging in my soul. After a few moments, my breathing slowed and my heart settled into its normal pace. I was still more furious than I had ever been, but it chilled to a frozen anger, steadier but more deadly than the mindless fury that had been possessing me. I knew that if I wanted to save Tomoe, I could not rely on blind rage.

As my heartbeat began to take up its normal rhythm again, I began to realize that my awareness seemed curiously leadened, as if a veil had fallen over my _chi_ sense. The forest around me was like a dead thing, void of any sense of life. The keen awareness that had guided _Battousai's_ every move was eluding my grasp. At first, I thought that perhaps the long months away from hard training had weakened my _chi_ and dulled the warrior's awareness, but as I moved through the forest, I became convinced that there was something evil lurking among the trees whose powers were eroding my ability to read my surroundings.

The sudden blinding pain of a blade slashing across my shoulder was unassailable proof my awareness was hampered: I had not sensed anyone near me until my shoulder was ripped open. Training took over, and I found myself ducking and weaving out of the way, astonished and disgusted with myself that I had not sensed my attacker's presence before he struck. I dodged and attacked in the same moment, and my _katana_ left its sheath for the first time in months. But my strike missed, and a masked man leaped back adroitly out of the way of my _katana_'s arc, laughing wildly.

"Welcome, _Battousai_, Demon of Kyoto, to the Forest of Barriers!" he said manically. "You'll find we are most accommodating here to such a renown warrior as yourself. In fact, we've taken your sixth sense from you, so you won't be burdened by it. Ha ha! Only warriors schooled in the dark arts can have full use of their awareness skills in this forest!"

"Do you think that matters to me?" I stated coldly. His laughter stopped, and for one moment uncertainty glittered behind his mask. "I have come for Tomoe and I will leave with Tomoe, and you will not stop it." Facing him, I gave him a cold once-over. He would die soon.

The eyes glittered again as suddenly he dropped his sword and flicked his hands outward. Searing pain knocked me backwards a step as a razor-sharp spike buried itself deeply in my shoulder. My opponent laughed again, triumph filling his voice, but his laughter choked into a gasp of pain as I tore the spike from my shoulder and sliced him across the torso in one swift movement.

It was a fatal wound – he would bleed out in a matter of minutes. Standing over him, grasping my blood-splattered blade, I demanded, "Tell me where Tomoe is."

The man gasped, spitting up blood, then smiled at me hazily. "Find her in hell. You'll be there soon enough yourself," before falling forward. Out of nowhere, his hand closed over a rope and he gave it a quick pull, disappearing in a blinding flash of light and noise.

I must have been knocked out for I found myself waking up to blood tricking from both ears and a painful buzzing filling my head. My body felt like it had been beaten all over, and both shoulders were bleeding steadily from their wounds. Blinking and turning my head gingerly, I realized that my acute hearing was nearly gone. _You've lost your intuition and your hearing. This isn't good, _I told myself.

But Tomoe still waited. I still had four of my senses left. I had fought drunk and injured before. For Tomoe's sake, I knew I would fight until I still had strength left to crawl. As of now, I still possessed some hearing. It would suffice.

Pulling myself to my feet, I moved forward. Tomoe was waiting. I had to get to her. My breath froze in the cold air, sending puffs of fog around my head. My blood left rosy patterns in the snow, swirling with the ridges my sandals churned up. Coldness and shock began to set in, but I ignored them. Tomoe. I had to get to Tomoe.

My limited hearing, damaged as it was, was enough to let me hear the boast of my next opponent before I could see him. "_Battousai_ of Kyoto without his awareness or his hearing. That doesn't sound like a fair fight!" An enormous man wielding a massive ax stepped into view and grinned at me.

"No," I replied coldly. "For my opponents, it is never a fair fight," I said and charged him head-on. Massive as his ax was, he hoisted it as he would a paintbrush, but even his enormous strength and speed were no match for the lightning reflexes of _Battousai_. I evaded him easily, lightly. Bleeding as I was, ears still deadened, and pain radiating through my body, I felt _alive_. I had forgotten what it was like, this life and death struggle of living by the sword.

As life coursed in me, my _chi_ began to wake up and struggle against the overpowering essence of the forest. It was for that reason that I sensed, a millisecond before it happened, the presence of another, not in front or behind, but above. I dodged and attacked at the same time, but it was not enough; some strange claw contraption tipped with razor-sharp blades buried itself into my shoulder. I staggered backwards as fresh blood began to flow in earnest down my chest and back and leave smears on the tree I fell against.

The ax-wielder, sensing his chance, moved forward. Through the tree, I felt my other opponent move and began his attack again. _Wait for it_, I told myself, tensing._ Now!_

As the clawed hand shot downward again, I darted out of the way at the last moment – as the ax came down, it met razor blades instead of human flesh. The creature in the tree, whatever it was, man or beast, screamed in agony as its claw was severed and fell into the snow, gushing blood of a strange hue. As ax met metal claw, I sliced the ax-wielder's legs, neatly removing one and leaving him writhing in agony on the ground.

The creature in the tree hissed and screamed, "I am leaving now, _Battousai_, but I will find you!" before disappearing into the trees of the forest. The man on the ground continued to moan in pain, but his blood-smeared face lifted to meet mine with one last look of defiance before pulling at a handle on the ground.

Another explosion, this one primarily of light, knocked me backwards into a tree. Fierce pain seared my eyes, and I buried my palms into my eye sockets in desperate attempts to keep out the blinding light. When I dared remove my hands from my face, it was only to realize that my sight was severely damaged. The forest was merely a hazy glow with indistinct dark spots. _Third sense gone_, I thought to myself. First intuition, then hearing, now sight. But I had defeated three enemies, and my resolve had not soften one iota. I had come for Tomoe, and I would kill anyone else who stood in my way.

Staggering to my feet, I leaned heavily on my _katana_. The blurry world spun heavily around me, and nausea set in. Dimly, memories moved to the surface, pulling me in and out of the present and the past.

_The innkeeper's sarcastic tones. "Good evening, Mr. Himaru. My, you Inshin warriors have energy to burn. You slaughter men all night but still swing by the pleasure quarter on your way home." _

_A dying man's last gasp. "I....I forgive you, my son."_

_Seijuro, my master, with sardonic eyes gazing at me. "Bakka! Attack again!" _

_Blood. Blood flowing like rain down the front of a white kimono. The scent of white plums. Two soft hands closing timidly over mine. _

Lost in my memories, weak from cold and blood loss, staggering, nearly blinded, almost deaf, I kept moving forward, leaving bloody footprints behind me. _Tomoe. Tomoe_. Her small frame danced in front of me like a ghost, weaving in and out of my consciousness. The minutes crawled by, and I felt like I had been moving through the woods for an endless age.

At once, my journey ended – the forest gave way to a small clearing where a temple sat. Outside the temple stood a man, gray-bearded, but tall and strong and gazing at me with something like amusement on his face. Behind him, crouched against the door, was Tomoe. I had found her. There was one last barrier between me and her.

My body took over and moved of its own accord, but I was greatly weakened and my strikes were slow. The man easily evaded my first three strikes, then attacked. Explosive force slammed into my abdomen and sent me backwards into the snow. I scrambled, trying to find a purchase in the slick snow, then jumped clumsily to my feet before attacking again. He ducked and punched me with a stiff uppercut – I staggered backwards again, my limited sight clouded over with the pain of his blows.

Two more times, I attacked and was beaten back by the power of his fists. On the fourth blow, I fell to the ground limply, too stunned to rise to my feet. The man laughed, "You're bleeding. You're cold. Shock has set in. You've lost your intuition, sight, and hearing. You've beaten three of my warriors, and they all left their marks on you. You will not win this fight, _Battousai_ of Kyoto. No," with that he drew a long _tanto. _"I am the hand of God who will bring his justice to you. At last, you will pay for the sins you have committed and the lives of Christians you have taken."

Sheer will pulled me to my feet and I stood, staggering, but upright. Clutching my _katana_ in my numb hands, I faced him. His face was cold with anger now, and there was a certain twisted pleasure in the cast of his eyes.

At that moment, I knew with blinding clarity what I had to do. I knew that the only way I could defeat him and save Tomoe was to get within range of his knife, to sacrifice myself. I knew I could not walk away from this battle alive, that the end had come for _Battousai_ the manslayer and Kenshin Himaru the farmer and fiancé of Tomoe. Both would die in front of this temple. But, if I attacked with all the remaining strength still present in my being, I knew I could kill my opponent and free Tomoe. There was only one choice, and I made it.

_Farewell, my love_, I thought desperately as I prepared to attack. _Live free and remember me always. _

I charged, conscious of nothing but that last final attack. As in a dream, I felt my arms raise to position and strike. The _katana_ cut a bloody path through black hair and blue fabric, and the smell of white plums mingled with the salty tang of blood.

My opponent fell to the ground, bleeding out from a deep throat wound. Tomoe fell against me; her hand clutching the bloody _tanto_ dropped limply to the ground. For a moment or two, I was bewildered. _Why is Tomoe here? _I thought. It was only when I felt her wet blood seeping through my clothes that I realized the truth, but my mind froze in disbelief.

No. It could not be. I lowered Tomoe to the ground, holding her in my arms. She was not hurt. I could not have struck the woman I loved. She could not have sacrificed herself for me when such a task had fallen on my shoulders. I looked at her in complete disbelief, trying to will away the horrendous wound that had sliced her deeply from shoulder to hip. I stared blankly in her face, trying not to recognize the pale, disoriented look of someone who is steps away from death, a look I knew all too well.

I clutched her wordlessly, begging without sound for her to cling to life, to live, to not leave me, even when I knew that it was hopeless. Tomoe fixed one glassy eye on me, then moved her _tanto_ up to my face with a trembling hand. I did not move as she gently scored a vertical slice on my cheek, intersecting with the horizontal scar that her former fiancé had left behind. Having done so, she gave me a weak smile before closing her eyes.

It was Barnabas who found the two of us, Barnabas who gently lifted Tomoe in his arms, carrying her body and half-carrying me out of the woods back to the village. I don't know how he managed both of us for I could scarcely walk and hung heavily on his shoulder. Numb with disbelief and shock, heavily wounded, and barely clinging to consciousness, I somehow kept a weak grip on Barnabas and staggered beside him through our slow journey. In truth, I wanted Barnabas to just leave me there, to let blood loss and the cold of winter do its work so that I could be with Tomoe. I no longer had the will to live now that she was dead, dead by my hand.

But Barnabas had a will nearly equal in stubbornness to my own. It was his force that propelled us forward on the long journey back through the woods. Back at the house, a small crowd waited. They surged forward when they first sighted us, then drew back in shock and horror at the gruesome display of blood and death. Barnabas ordered most of them away except for a few women whom he turned Tomoe's body over to and then guided me into the back room of the house, away from Tomoe. I made a move to protest, but Barnabas pushed me down, and I did not have the strength to rise.

He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with his hands full of bandages and healing supplies. Barnabas had some skill as a doctor and set to work on my injuries, cleansing and stitching up my wounds. I did not protest as his needle stabbed through my bleeding flesh or when he helped strip me of my tattered, bloody clothing and into clean clothes. When he was done, he thrust a bowl of something in front of me and commanded in a voice cracked with emotion, "Eat it, or I will feed it to you." I did not taste it as it slid limply down my throat – I was only eating because I had no will left to fight him over it.

When the bowl had fallen from my nerveless hands, I said in a hollow voice, "Take me to Tomoe."

Barbabas nodded through tears and slid back the door. I followed him into the small bedroom where Tomoe and I had slept side-by-side, never once touching. The only time I had held her in my arms had been the night before. She would never lie with me; I would never feel the softness of her naked flesh against mine. She had lived as my wife in name for several months, and I would never know her as my true wife.

Tomoe lay under the covers, her face cleansed of all blood and her hair neatly combed. She seemed merely sleeping as if she would soon awake with one of her calm, gentle expressions and start her daily chores.

I knelt at her side, gazing hungrily at the moonwhite face on the pillow. Behind me, Barnabas and the others left, leaving me alone with Tomoe.

I wanted to cry, scream, rail, fight, but I had nothing to draw on. There was only a yawning chasm of loss and guilt and sorrow in my being, and the depth of it permeated every pore. I could only sit and stare at her and grieve.

For two days, nothing could tear me from Tomoe's side. Barnabas never left the house the entire time I was grieving over Tomoe. At times, he forced me to eat and checked my bandages, but mostly, he left me to the room and tactfully turned aside mourners from the village who appeared at the door to pay their respects. On the second evening, he set tea in front of me and said gently, "Kenshin, we must bury Tomoe."

I nodded numbly.

Barnabas sighed deeply. The circles under his eyes were deep; grief had scored him also. "I will tell the villagers. We will dig the grave tomorrow."

I said nothing. Barnabas looked at me. "I'll arrange another safe house for you..."

"No," I said flatly.

Barnabas nodded, "You want to stay here?"

"No."

He looked at me narrowly. "You're not planning on turning _ronin_, are you?" he said harshly.

I said nothing. In it, he read my intentions. "Kenshin, no," he said, "Tomoe....Tomoe...I don't know what happened and I didn't want to burden you by asking. But whatever it was, turning _ronin_ is not the answer. You're wanted by both the _Ishin_ and the _Shinsengumi_, and you can't simply wander about like that, without a home. You're a part of us now and..."

"That part of me died with Tomoe," I said in a deadened voice. "That day, that day that we discovered Tomoe had been taken, I knew. I knew that I am _hitokiri_. Nothing can change that."

Barnabas gave me an angry look. For one moment, I thought he was going to punch me. "_Baka!"_ he snapped, shooting to his feet and pacing. "When are you going to accept that Christ died for your sins? When are you going to stop trying to carry all your sins yourself? You can't!"

"When you have slaughtered hundreds and killed the woman you loved, you will have the right to ask me that question," I responded.

Barnabas stopped pacing and stepped forward. Grabbing my head roughly between his hands, he bent forward so that our foreheads were touching. Sighing deeply, he said in a choked voice, "Brother, I will pray for you every day. I will not give up hope that you will find the redemption you so desperately seek."

I sighed deeply. "I had hoped to find it here. For a time I did." Barnabas released me and stepped back, tears forming in his eyes. I went on, "God may forgive me. But I cannot. Not now."

We buried Tomoe that day. How the men hacked a grave out of the frozen soil, I do not know. I could not attend her funeral; I could only stand on the hill and watch it from afar. When it was over, I left, taking nothing save my _katana_ and a few supplies. My wounds were still healing, and I was nowhere near recovered from the battle of three days ago. But I could not stay in the village anymore than I could pass through fire unscathed.

I did not know what the path before me lead to. If it was to my death, I welcomed it. I did know that the life of an assassin was behind me, that even if the _Ishin_ had accepted me back, that I could no longer kill innocent people again. Although I could not fully embrace Christianity (the weight of my guilt seemed too great for even Christ to remove) I had lived and loved among them for a time and was embraced by them as one of their own. There seemed only one choice before me – to protect the weak and defend the Christians who were being hunted like wolves throughout Japan. I had not forgotten throughout these months that our village was harbor in a raging sea of violence. Outside, _Ishin_ and _Shinsengumi_ still raged, slaughtering each other and countless thousands of innocents. My sword had killed to take the lives of Christians – I would now wield it to save their lives. With my actions and with time and penance and repentant, perhaps someday I could find the peace and forgiveness I sought.

For now, I had a path. I took it, leaving behind only my footprints in the fresh snow.


End file.
